


Like the sane (Abandon me)

by OTP_Malec_Shipper



Series: you take me high (bring me down) [2]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, M/M, but barely that anymore, every promise is meant to be broken, forever really is not forever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-20 07:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13142307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTP_Malec_Shipper/pseuds/OTP_Malec_Shipper
Summary: "A light to burn all the empiresSo bright the sun is ashamed to rise and beIn love with all of these vampiresSo you can leave like the sane, abandon me"- My Chemical RomanceMitch would get used to it eventually.





	Like the sane (Abandon me)

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is actually a more of an angsty mess than before?  
> Title is taken from the sharpest lives by mcr, which miight sound a little too rock and fast paced paced for this fic, but when you unpack all the lyrics, well isn't it a freaking goldmine?  
> Special thanks to Joce for helping me give this series a way shorter name than I had planned before, and for helping my indecisive ass with a paragraph  
> There's a reference to one of my other fanfics if you squint really hard  
> 

Mitch would get used to it eventually.

He would get used to this feeling of some part of him missing, driven away, leaving him empty and without feeling inside.

He would have normally described this feeling as listlessness, ~~a month or two~~ a month and two days ago. (Wasn’t it ironic that he remembered exactly when he felt his heart shatter to a million pieces? It might sound cliché, but Mitch felt exactly like a cliché, empty, desperate person, deprived of the _one_ thing that made them _them.)_

(he hadn’t known that one person could define another person, not really. but we all learn new things every day now, don’t we?)

But listlessness never went this far, never dragged on and on, never threatened to consume him until he couldn’t take it any more-

His ~~constant~~ ray of sunshine was gone.

He fucking knew drifting apart was natural, so many people had told him that but what the fuck did you think when yourfriendthathadbeenyourbestfriendfor15yearsandmore and had gone through _so much_ with you abandoned you for one simple mistake?

Mitch should have expected it, really.

He should have known that this wasn’t going to last; in hindsight, he was surprised at the fact that their relationship –friends, something **else –** had lasted this long.

He should have known that Scott would have realized he was a dead weight eventually, that Scott was worth a hundred of Mitches any day, that Mitch was the ne dragging him down and holding him back from whatever he wanted to do, always.

He was glad Scott had left him, in a way. 

It would mean countless sleepless nights, countless days of feeling worthless and alone.

But Mitch would do anything to make Scott happy.

He had thought they’d balanced each other out, once. When Scott was with him, he could forget his doubts, he could instead feel his embraces, his soft reassurances that nothing was going to go wrong, that everything was going to be all right, that Mitch was exactly where he was supposed to be; right there in Scott’s embrace forever. By his side, for forever.

But now he knew.

He knew that he had always been the ridiculously co-dependent one, and forever will be. Scott didn’t need a Mitch to sail through life, but Mitch, _Mitch, desperately_ and irrevocably needed a Scott to somewhat wade through life, as ironic as it may seem.

Scott was as light as a feather, sailing through life easily, drinking, partying while taking every opportunity he had to make a difference; he was a forest fire. Mitch had always been the opposite; cautious, anxious, doubtful.

Scott had always been the one to convince him that this was fine, that they could do this, they could do this _together –_ Mitch had always been the one to rein him in when he suggested an idea that was particularly outlandish or ridiculous.

They had balanced each other out, Mitch knew. Everyone around them knew their dynamic; he had seen a lot of people sigh over them; the fans, casual acquaintances and even their friends, who had always wanted to have a friendship like theirs but never did and never hoped to.

They were one of a kind, they had said.

 _And look where we are now,_ Mitch thought bitterly. Scott had carried on without him. Mitch was barely moving from his bed, listening to depressing music, a giant Scott shaped hole in his heart, and _Scott had carried on without him._

Suddenly, the anger was blinding. Mitch felt the need to throw something, to hit something, an uncontrollable rage that made him forget all but the fact that he was angry for an instant. He grabbed the nearest breakable thing he had – his IPod - and threw it, uncommonly satisfied with the crash and the noise of shattered glass in its wake.

He stood up with considerable difficulty, an almost dreamlike sensation taking over him. He gazed at the IPod which had adamantly refused to break despite all his efforts, only leaving a spider web pattern in its wake.

That had been their friendship, once upon a time.

(they’d been scarred, sure, but never this much, enough to make them abandon their friendship entirely, and it wassuchasmallhingtoo)

They’d always replaced their screen with a new moment, a new beginning, but this time they’ve waited until it shattered into a million pieces and some more.

Mitch looked at the IPod and started laughing, long and hysterically, for what felt like hours until his laughter dissolved into uncontrollable tears and suddenly he was clutching his IPod, mindlessly searching for a song out of the sad playlist he had been listening to too much lately, his hands diving through the music with a mind of its own, searching for a trace of Scott, of Mitch, a trace of the both of them, him finally putting on a song they had written when they had no idea of what heartbreak was but which described their situation barely a _month_ after Superfruit perfectly.

 _Ironic, really,_ were his last bitter thoughts as he drifted off to sleep, the words, “ _you didn’t tell me goodnight, for the first time, since the first night you laid in my bed_ ,” echoing in his head.

***

_He woke up, or seemed to._

_His mind was full – the good way; with good thoughts and great memories of the night before – with the memory of him getting engaged, Scott proposing to him “out of nowhere.”_

_(_ Of course he knew Scott was going to propose, _he thought with a tinkling laugh._ This was his other half that he knew better than himself. And Scott was shit at lying, so there was that, too _.)_

 _He smiled, feeling light and air and most of all_ happy, _a feeling he hadn’t felt in days._

_He wondered why._

_All he could remember was a whirlwind of excitement at the prospect of Scott proposing, rehearsing his best look of surprise with Kirstie by his side, laughing all along._

_He shrugged it off, but the nagging feeling still remained in the back of his mind._

_He rolled over to Scott’s side, remembering the both of them collapsing on top of their bed at two am, both too exhausted to do anything except sleep-_

_There was no one there._

_It all came rushing back to him like a tidal wave, like a T-tsunami, too vigorous to stop, too over-consuming to escape._

_Suddenly, he was drowning._

_***_

It was the day 32, and Scott was floating.

Not floating as in, _I’m ridiculously happy because my life is as successful as it should be and I should feel righteously happy –_ and it _was,_ and he knew he should feel happy about that – but more like, _I’m mossing my best friend who I left without any explanation but who deserve one that I am too unwilling to give but who I miss daily like an open fucking wound –_

He should be happy, he had thought countless times in the last month. He had the perfect boyfriend, the perfect friends, enough money to buy his own house – he had had that when he was living with Mitch too, he just hadn’t wanted to _leave –_ and million dollars of money that was quite literally lying around waiting to be spent.

 _The classic American dream,_ he thought, laughing bitterly.

He fucking _missed_ his best friend.

He missed him when he went to Starbucks, - alone _or_ with other people, in fact, it had been very much the same thing either way; going with Joe had made him realize how much better company _Mitch_ was, comparatively – thinking about their what-used-to-be daily tradition of going to Starbucks together, or one of them going to bring the coffee to the other when they were too busy to, each of them knowing the other’s coffee order like their very own.

(He still sometimes slipped up and ordered Mitch’s coffee order as well; usually leaving the shop clutching two coffee cups in his hand, not eager to meet the pitying glance the barista threw at him whenever he cancelled the order, making the hollowed out feeling of guilt and sadness still worse.)

He missed all the simple things that they had done together, things that had seemed so mundane and daily for them at that time but now seemed anything but; going shopping together; watching movies together while cuddling, with a domestic quarrel of which movie to watch sprinkled in between; their aimless conversations, both discussing what they wanted to do and what would happen if they got to collaborate with their idols and so much else, relationships, _plans for forever;_ theirs ups and downs of life that was always due to the other, the both of them not wanting to have it any other way.

He missed writing the soundtrack of their life together, both literally and figuratively.

Hell, he even missed _missing_ Mitch when he left somewhere; this bittersweet ache of knowing that a loved one was leaving but was going to come back to you eventually.

That was **nothing** like the feeling he felt now; the feeling of missing someone and knowing that you were never going to get them back, and that was all Scott’s fault.

The guilt was overwhelming.

**Author's Note:**

> The part in italics is ambiguous; you can interpret it as an actual situation or a dream  
> I hate making scott the villain (?) but matters will actually be cleared in the next fic  
> i also hate making mitch's happiness temporary but angst s my actual fucking jam now ah  
> Leave a comment and/or kudos they make my day  
> Social media links are in bio


End file.
